Emma pov
A few months ago, if someone were to tell me I'd be spending my morning with my lips attached to my husband's, I would have thought them crazy. But today it's the most natural thing the world to be close to him, to feel his touch. This morning in particular we were hours late for breakfast due to Luke's stubbornness and the fact that I have trouble denying him of what we both want.
"Luke we should really go to breakfast," I say although I have no desire to move an inch. He only hums and continues to mark my neck with love bites while I thread my fingers through his hair. But at the sound of three timid knocks at the door, I push Luke to get off me and I frantically attempt to make my bedclothes presentable while he quickly covers his lap with a pillow.
Two maids enter the room carrying a tray piled a variety of breakfast foods, followed by Queen Liz.
"Since you two decided to sleep through our morning meal, I've had it brought to you. How are you meant to rule a country someday if you don't eat a proper breakfast?" she says as she opens the deep blue drapes. I chew on my lip nervously, hoping she doesn't realize what we were doing a minute ago. And although our kisses were fairly innocent with the exception of a few touches here and there, it would still be awkward for Luke's mother of all people to have caught us in the act. Liz looks back and forth between us and something clicks in her head.
"Ahh, I see why you didn't come down to breakfast,"
"Mum-" Luke starts while my cheeks turn pink.
"No, by all means carry on. Since Ben and Jack refuse to settle down, maybe I'll finally get my first grandchild from you two," she smiles to herself and rushes herself and the maids out the door.
"She can be so infuriating sometimes," Luke huffs as I grab the tray and reach for a piece of fruit.
"She means well," I say, handing him a strawberry.
"I know... I just don't want you to feel pressured by her or anyone else. We won't have sex until you're ready," he reassures me. I bury my face into his chest in an attempt to hide my blush. He snickers like he usually does when I blush at the mention of sex. We've talked about it several times, and I'm still hesitant after my encounter with that guard a few months ago. Luke's used to taking things extremely fast, but he understands why I want to wait.
"Thank you," I say, listening to his steady heartbeat that got a little quicker each time I pressed a small kiss to his chest.
"For what darling?"
"For looking out for me, for understanding. I know you must be miserable having to wait for me."
"I'm a hundred times happier with you, like this, than I was with any of those other girls. I think I might be in-" he was cut off by our door opening once again.
"Yes?" Luke says, slightly annoyed at the maid who had just opened the door without knocking.
"I'm sorry for my intrusion, your majesty, but it's urgent. The King and Queen of France have just arrived and request an audience with Princess Emmaline immediately," she stutters.
"Why would my parents be here?" I ask, completely shocked at their impromptu visit. I dismiss the maid and rush out of bed to my wardrobe, trying to find a suitable dress. Luke comes up behind me while slipping on a shirt.
"I like that one," he says, pointing to a particularly revealing dress.
"Of course you do," I roll my eyes, "but I can't wear that. My parents are relentlessly judgemental, their favorite hobby is to nit-pick everything I do. I have to wear something appropriate." I finally decide on a pale pink dress with a high cut neckline. Luke reads a large book on the bed, looking up at me sympathetically as I squirm and wince at the maids tightening my corset.
...
My parents are waiting in a large drawing room, a warm fire lit to keep out the fast approaching cold weather. Luke and I must stay at a respectful distance, as it is considered improper to touch your spouse in public unless you're dancing. They almost look unfamiliar to me. Of course I remember my mother's long, dark hair (similar to mine) and my father's cold, calculating eyes; but it seems like they are from a far away dream. King Andrew and Queen Liz stand off to the side, looking apprehensively at their guests. Luke bows politely, greeting my parents in a friendly manner. My mother nods to him, but my father looks at Luke as if he's some pesky gnat. Next, I hesitantly hug my mother and she seems to have genuinely missed me because she sheds a few tears and clutches me closer. Father barely glances at me, it seems he's more interested in the room. I know what he's looking for: signs of wealth to show that the English kingdom is prospering. He's sizing up his enemy.
"Well I have to say, this marriage couldn't have worked out better. Emma is an absolute delight, she's like the daughter I never had," Liz smiles in an attempt to make conversation. My mother hardly notices as she's too busy mentally criticizing my dress.
"Yes well she was quite the pest to us. Talked far too much for a lady and the only suitor she could attract was the son of a wealthy landowner. She wasn't much use to us. I hope she doesn't cause you any trouble, if she does don't hesitate to remind her of her place," my father says, drinking some wine and grumbling about how superior French wine is. I keep my head down and remind myself that speaking up only makes things worse, but when I look up at Luke, his jaw is tense and he looks angry. I quickly put my hand on his, trying to keep him calm.
"Anne," father speaks to my mother now, "why don't you women folk go somewhere else. Let the men talk." I look to Liz and the expression on her face is unreadable as she and mother stand from the lounge.
"Come along Emma," my mother says strictly. Judging from the glare my father gives Luke, there's about to be a serious conversation. I squeeze his hand reassuringly once more before scurrying after my mother. We begin walking down a long corridor to have tea most likely.
"Emmaline, I thought I taught you you're not to touch your husband in the company of others," my mother growls.
"I'm afraid that's my fault, Anne. I haven't been strict enough with them. I yearn for a grandchild a little too much," Liz speaks up.
"Ah speaking of grandchildren, why aren't you with child yet, Emmaline?" Mother moves on to the next subject with speed. I only purse my lips, not sure how to tell her we haven't even thought about producing an heir.
"Answer me, you should be heavily pregnant by now, you've been married for almost six months."
"There were some... complications when we first met," I mumble.
"My son can be quite stubborn. They weren't even on speaking terms for the first month of the marriage," Liz explains.
"Yes, Elizabeth, but her first priority is to have as many heirs to the throne as soon as possible. That is her purpose until she becomes queen," my mother whines as we sit down to tea. The rest of the afternoon was filled with mother's constant nagging and all I could do was sit there and wait till evening when I would finally be alleviated of her presence.
...
The second mother left to prepare for dinner, I ran to my quarters before she could change her mind. Leaning against the door, I sigh at the thought of having to go back down to my parents in less than half an hour for the evening celebration. I spot Luke sitting on a chair, staring off into space, and looking like he's just seen a ghost.
"Rough day?" I chuckle, walking up behind him.
"You have no idea," he groans contently when I start to run my fingers through his hair, knowing it relaxes him, "How did your day go?"
"Probably not much better than yours," I answer.
"Your father is..." he trails off probably not sure how to finish his sentence.
"Insufferable? I know," I suggest as I start shuffle through my dresses for an evening gown. Suddenly I was so incredibly over it. Over their rules, over their criticism, and over how they've controlled every aspect of my life. I pulled the dress Luke had expressed a liking to this morning off its hanger and told Luke to turn around so I could change.
"Wow," Luke says once I'm done.
"Do you like it?" I ask, ruffling the red material.
"I love it," he says as he grips my waist and pulls me closer, "but I'm not sure the King and Queen of France will."
"That's the point," I grin.
"Oh I get it, you finally hit your teenage rebellion stage. It's about time, you almost had me convinced that you wouldn't have one," he smirks at me. I roll my eyes and tug his hand to pull him out the door.
"C'mon Hemmings we've got a party to go to"
